


Prior to Playing

by ShayaLonnie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:50:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8376295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShayaLonnie/pseuds/ShayaLonnie
Summary: He had opened his mouth to ask her if she'd been hit in the head by a Bludger when she'd smiled up at him, eyes wide and knowing, and asked, "Would you like to be plucked, Draco Malfoy?"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluecurls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecurls/gifts).
  * Inspired by [No Longer Playing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8506921) by [bluecurls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecurls/pseuds/bluecurls). 



> Written as a companion piece to bluecurls' story [No Longer Playing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8506921/chapters/19495948). More NLP Companion Pieces: [Playing the Part](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8229845) by bluecurls, and [Playing for Keepers](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11173948/1/Playing-For-Keepers) by Worthfull1

He was absolutely certain that there was nothing so exquisitely perfect, so excruciatingly tight and warm and wet—water over soft silk—as Luna Lovegood.

When the barmy little chit had approached him during the unbearable darkness that was his seventh year, a daisy of all things in her hand, he'd stared at her with a furrowed brow for a good ten minutes while she educated him on the Muggle practice of pulling petals to gauge the affections of a paramour and how, if you only look for the odd number of petals before you begin plucking, everything turns out in your favour.

He had opened his mouth to ask her if she'd been hit in the head by a Bludger when she'd smiled up at him, eyes wide and knowing, and asked, "Would you like to be plucked, Draco Malfoy?"

Despite his better judgement and the world turning to shit around him, those innocent words with a very not-so-innocent implication had him hard within seconds and unable to breathe in her presence.

Then, without another word, she had skipped away. Skipped!

He hadn't seen her again until Easter hols when he'd shown up at Malfoy Manor to be introduced to the prisoners in the dungeons. Despite his aunt's desires to torture every last person that was brought into the home, Draco did his best to be subtly polite to Ollivander. What sport was there in harming an unarmed old man?

When he caught sight of Luna sitting in the back up against a wall with a smile of all things on her face, Bellatrix had told him to tie her up and gag her if he felt like it, because she never seemed to shut up. Draco had swallowed hard when Luna asked if he needed to be shown how to properly tie a Clove Hitch knot, but that it seemed silly because there wasn't a bedpost or even pole in the dungeon.

His dreams were filled with thoughts of her, as were his morning showers that took far too long. He'd grip himself tight in hand, ignore the memories of war and darkness and think of her white-blond hair, so very much like his own. Her eyes though, fuck . . . those eyes. Eyes filled with the color of light and life and a strange knowledge of things that didn't exist and things a girl as innocent looking as her should never know about. He thought about Luna Lovegood and stroked himself, pretending that he was buried inside of her, listening as she whispered filthy implications in between moments of lucid knowledge and absolute nonsense. By the time he came—twice—the water was always freezing.

Cold showers had taken on a new meaning.

Befriending Granger had been the strangest thing he'd ever done in his life, yet calling a truce with the know-it-all Muggle-born wasn't half as nauseating as catching Pansy with her tongue in Weasley's mouth. So he played nice with the bookworm and was oddly grateful for her company, especially when he'd made a comment about strange noises he'd heard in the walls of his new flat and she—drunkenly—suggested he Floo Luna to ask her to investigate something called nargles. She'd been joking, surely, but tipsy enough to pass over the contact information for the little Ravenclaw.

The same Ravenclaw who, years later, would pet him on the head, whisper, "Good job," after  _ she  _ had finished sucking  _ him  _ dry. Was she at all aware that he'd barely had the ability to remain standing the second she'd fallen to her knees in front of him, those large eyes never leaving his face even as she wrapped her pretty pink lips around his cock?  _ Good job, indeed _ , he thought to himself. _ Good job you didn't embarrass yourself by coming too soon or letting your knees buckle _ .

He had been nervous when she'd officially met—and subsequently charmed the hell out of—both of his parents. She'd shown up with a floral arrangement for his mother, traditional flowers that had ten different meanings that she was more than happy to explain. Lucius, on the other hand, stared at the girl with disapproval until she withdrew a folded piece of parchment that listed her family tree going back at least ten generations.

"I know Draco doesn't really care about blood status," she had said, "and he's right not to. But you do care, at least for now, and your approval is important to him. You should know, however, I'm very good friends with a Muggle-born." Draco couldn't tell whether or not she was warning his father or threatening him. Either way, she'd been invited to stay for dinner and told to come back whenever she'd like.

"You shouldn't be ashamed to want to explore your sexuality," she whispered against the shell of his ear when she'd invited herself to his weekly get together with old Housemates. He hadn't a clue what she was talking about at first until he glanced up and saw Blaise staring at the way that her fingers stroked Draco's thigh.

Granted, he wasn't used to sharing his toys, he was, however, never one to back down from showing off.

_ Fuck Marcus Flint and his self-righteous need to keep all the details of his weird relationship with Granger to himself _ . Draco was half tempted to Floo the man right then and brag, mid-thrust, about what he was doing to Luna; a bartering chip in order to get the gossip he'd been prevented from knowing. Draco hated not knowing things. At the same time, he wanted to keep this moment to himself, or at least, between himself and the other people in the room.

He'd taken her first, greedy and eager and she'd come twice before he let Blaise put a single finger on her ivory skin. His friend feasted on the witch, driven mad by the taste of her skin and the delicious way her thighs slightly quivered when a man's head was between them. She mewled and keened and made other delightful sounds that washed away Draco's every nightmare, and even with Blaise doing—apparently fantastic—things to her, she kept her eyes on Draco.

It was strange to hear the words, "I love you," come from her mouth when she came at the ministrations of another man, but he didn't even feel slightly jealous, because she was really, truly, all his. He couldn't say the words back, but he kissed her hard and deep and silently thanked the gods for rewarding him for the few good things he'd done in his life. Clearly they'd overlooked every sin.

He thrust inside of her, smiling at the way her knees perched on his hips, one arm wrapped around his neck, the other reaching backwards to stroke her fingers through Blaise's hair. When she suggested they both fuck her at the same time, though she'd used prettier words than that, both wizards were more than eager to grant her request. Draco refused to withdraw from her, desperate to stay inside of her warmth, so when Blaise slowly, gently as he could, pushed in from behind her, Draco felt everything tighten and he gasped for air.

Luna giggled.

Actually. Fucking. Giggled.

It took every last ounce of strength, pride, and dignity not to propose marriage on the spot.

Blaise roared his climax against her spine; Draco shouted a list of obscenities, his lips resting between her breasts. He felt her walls grip down on him hard and pulse like a hummingbird's wings and he was absolutely certain that he could feel the melding of their magic. When she came, she whispered his name in his ear. Somehow, the tiny witch had broken him physically, enlightened him sexually, awakened him magically, and intimately shattered walls he'd built up around himself for so many years . . . simply because she'd intimately whispered her orgasm, instead of screamed.

They collapsed on the bed and gulping deep breaths of air as their legs braided together like a poorly woven rug, Draco kissed her breasts, her collarbone, and made his way up her throat, seeking her lips.

"I understand if this made you feel uncomfortable," she told him. "Sometimes it's harder for men to let go of their inhibitions around one another. Women are easier. I think it has something to do with the positions of the stars."

Blaise chuckled. "Next time you should invite a witch to share your bed," he suggested.

Draco laughed, but Luna lay there with a contemplative look on her eyes. The blond Slytherin grinned, knowing that look, and nipped her neck lightly as a reward.

"Maybe Granger," Blaise said with a smirk.

"I think Hermione would be quite skilled," Luna said with a nod of her head. "But she's on her own path and I'm not going to disrupt it."

Draco scoffed. "I don't give a damn about what Granger and Flint get up to in bed."

Luna smiled at him that sweet way she always did when she knew things that he didn't. "Did you know that there's an extra full moon this year?" she asked him. "They're very lucky."


End file.
